


Pretty Boy

by Imagining_in_the_Margins



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Bisexual Spencer Reid, Bisexuality, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Funny, Gay Spencer Reid, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Reunions, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Schoolboys, Self-Insert, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, male reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26995525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagining_in_the_Margins/pseuds/Imagining_in_the_Margins
Summary: Male!Reader, Bi!Reid. Spencer thinks you’re just the bully who likes to pull his pigtails. He is wrong.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 85





	Pretty Boy

I’d always heard that when you fell in love, you began to see the person differently. Like in slow-motion or with a little halo of light around their head. When the other guys talked about girls, it never really sounded like that’s what they saw. 

But I’d seen it. In fact, I saw it every single day. The only thing was, it wasn’t a girl at all, and the guy that it was… I was pretty sure he hated me. A lot. I couldn’t really say that I blamed him. He was almost definitely out of my league.

It wasn’t just his looks, either, but they sure were something. From the freckles that peeked from behind slightly buttoned shirts to the way his hair always looked just disheveled enough that I could imagine I was running my hands through it, Spencer Reid never looked anything but beautiful to me.

Most people liked him for his brains. Or rather, they liked to use him for them. I hated when they treated him like an encyclopedia or a homework machine. Spencer was so much more than a database. He was funny and kind and patient. He never made me feel stupid.

Unfortunately, despite being a year younger than me, he was going to be graduating in just a few weeks. And just like that, I would lose that adorable little smile I always looked for in the lunchroom. He would be whisked away to a world better suited for him. A world without stupid boys like me.

Then I had a thought. A foolish, ridiculous, reckless thought.

What if Spencer Reid didn’t have to leave my life? Or what if… he wanted me to stay a part of his?

When the bell rang to signal the end of the last day of school, I didn’t stick around to wish any of my classmates a good summer break. I had a much more important mission— possibly the most important mission in my entire life. Or at least, it felt like that for a thirteen year old. As I turned the corner, I thought about just how stupid I was about to look. Everything that could possibly go wrong flashed before my eyes.

But then I saw him. With a book clutched in his hand and his mind somewhere in the clouds, or possibly the stars, he didn’t even notice my rushed pace coming up behind him until I was already there.

“Hey, pretty boy!” I said louder than I intended, managing to catch his attention well enough that his golden hazel gaze latched onto mine. “I got something to say to you.” I spoke quickly, scared that if I took my time I might chicken out altogether. 

Spencer, in all his infinite wisdom, must have interpreted my fear as something else, though, and with a shaking voice, he cried, “L-leave me alone!” 

He tried to break off in a sprint, but sports were the one thing he wasn’t good at. I ran off in front of him, stopping him in his tracks with a small plea. “Hey, wait! It’ll only take a second!”

“I don’t want to talk to you!”

The words hurt more than I thought they would, but they still didn’t hurt as badly as the anger on his face.

“Why not? What’d I do?!”

“What did you _do_?” Spencer started, his tone warping back and forth between a low rumble and high squeaks, “You mean besides humiliate me in front of everyone a-and treat me like garbage?”

I’d thought my heart couldn’t sink any further into my stomach, but it did. It hit so hard it felt more like rocks and cement. “…What?”

“Don’t act surprised!” he yelled, clutching his book to his chest like he was afraid that I would hit him. Like I would ever do anything to hurt him. 

“But...” I whispered, unable to drum up enough courage to say anything in the face of the boy I liked very loudly expressing his dislike for me.

“You’re just a bully! That’s why you act like this!” he yelled as he turned to leave.

But I couldn’t let him leave — not yet! The idea of that being our last interaction would haunt me for ages. Probably the rest of my life! Lunging forward before I realized what a horrible idea it was, I grabbed hold of his arm and stopped him from leaving. I wasn’t sure which was worse: the fact that he didn’t try to fight me, a testament to how many times he’d lost that fight before, or the words he followed with.

“You just want power so you find people who won’t put up a fight and you’re mean to us so you can feel better about yourself! Good luck finding someone else to beat on when I’m gone!” As if the words had snapped him back to reality, he started to struggle under my grip.

I’d hardly even noticed I was still holding on, except for the fact that he was so warm and his skin was so soft under my fingers that were calloused from all the stupid stuff ‘normal’ kids my age got into. My head was still reeling from his words and the realization that he thought of me as his enemy.

“I don’t want to beat you up!” The words were hurried, but not loud. My voice cracked halfway through them, but even that didn’t convince Spencer, who now had his hand over mine, trying to pry me off. That wasn’t the way I wanted him to hold my hand.

“Then let me go!”

So I did, so quickly and with so much force that he almost fell backwards from the lack of resistance. “I’m sorry!” I tried to grab him again to help him back to his feet, but he flinched away from me. It was my turn for my hands to shake. Not just because I was scared and nervous, but because he just looked so horribly cute with his cheeks puffed out and his face turning red. “I just wanted to tell you that...”

“What!”

“That I like you, alright?!”

Once the words were said, silence filled the whole city. Everything in the entire world ceased to exist outside the echo of those words. They hung in the air between us, even as the breeze started to rustle Spencer’s hair.

“... What?” he asked quietly, even shyer than usual.

“Don’t act surprised.” I repeated the words he’d used back at him in a sorry attempt to make him laugh. It didn’t, but I swore his face turned a darker shade of pink.

“What do you mean you like me?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be smart?” I said with a snort. But when Spencer bristled in response, his cheeks rounding as he pouted, I quickly retracted my laugh. “Sorry! That was mean, huh? I just thought you knew.”

“Why would I know that? There is no reason for me to know that at all.”

I had a feeling a lecture was coming. I just hoped it didn’t make me feel as bad as the last one.

“You’re not nice to me. Your friends make fun of me and you always call me pretty boy!” he explained, waving his book around. I know I should have been paying closer attention, and probably not smiling, but I was just so excited that he didn’t seem scared of me anymore.

When he finished, he pulled his cardigan back over his shoulder in the most charming way. I wondered how he could take my compliment so wrong, or ever confuse me with the jerks that made fun of him. They were just jealous, anyway.

“Those guys aren’t my friends. My friends think you’re cool,” I explained nonchalantly, “And I call you pretty because... well, you are.”

Spencer’s shoulders fell at the thought and a small sigh left his lips. I wasn’t very good at reading people, but he looked... sad.

“Since when is pretty a bad thing?” I mumbled, readjusting my backpack to find something to do with my hands. I could still feel the way his hands felt, even though they were gone. I wished I could hold them again.

“Pretty is what you call a girl,” he answered.

I looked at him. I took my time admiring the way the tiny strands framing his face started to curl as the day went on. I thought about the freckles visible on his neck and how it might be fun to kiss them. I bet that he was ticklish. I could almost hear the sound of his laughter, pouring out of his crooked smile and I wondered how else I was supposed to describe him.

“Yeah I guess so for most people, but you’re like... way prettier than any girl I’ve ever seen.”

I swore, every time I spoke his face got a shade darker. Soon enough, it would be so red that I thought it might never go back the way it used to be. But I sort of liked the idea of him feeling flustered forever. I hoped that it was because he felt wanted. Because he was.

“… Is that all you had to say?” Spencer mumbled, nervously shifting his foot while he looked everywhere but at me.

I was still so distracted by the sight of him looking absolutely adorable that I almost forgot why I’d been so eager to track him down at all. “Oh! No, I also got you something.”

It was his turn to watch me then as I swung my backpack around and rifled through it to find the small box with a shiny bow placed on top. It wasn’t that hard to find, considering I’d placed it very carefully so it wouldn’t get smashed. When I handed it to him, he shied away for a second before taking it, like he was still waiting for something to go horribly wrong. But it wouldn’t.

“What is it?”

“Open it!” I urged, pointing to the top of the box (as if a genius would need my help). I was practically bouncing as he did, and the look on his face shifted from a nervous apprehension to an excitement I hadn’t seen on him since the last awards ceremony in our school auditorium. I basked in the feeling of knowing that I was the one responsible this time.

“It’s stationery!” I yelled again, like he actually needed my help. He jumped at the sound. Quieter then, and with heat gathering in my face to match his, I explained, “I know you’re leaving soon to go to college and I know you’ll be busy and there will be way cooler guys but I hoped that whenever you had some free time you could... you know.”

Spencer blinked, his mouth half hung open and his eyes staring straight at me, flickering from side to side to take in each inch of my expression.

“You could write me letters.” I told him before adding, “I’d write them back.”

There should have been an anxiety in the silence, but there wasn’t. The longer we stood there, the more it seemed natural to do so. I briefly yelled at myself for not having done this sooner. While I was daydreaming about all the after-school moments we’d missed, Spencer spoke again.

“Are these monogrammed?” He held up an almost empty card stock letter to reveal his initials, and I wondered if he wondered why I’d thought to do something so… fancy.

“Yeah. My mom helped me pick them out,” I admitted. I wasn’t ashamed about it. Then again, my mom had tried to convince me to get him a card game instead. She just didn’t know Spencer… _Yet?_ I dared to hope, but then let the thought go with a nervous laugh.

Spencer’s voice once again brought me back to the present and out of my head. “Thanks. I’ll definitely write to you,” he replied with a simple smile.

I noticed that his cheeks were slowly returning to a pale petal pink. His blush was almost gone, but I wasn’t ready to let it go yet. So, without thinking all that much, I placed one hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek. He might’ve looked surprised if I’d given him any time at all to realize what was happening.

But I don’t think he figured it out until my lips were already on his cheek. His skin felt unbelievably warm and soft, and if I hadn’t thought he’d freak out, I would’ve kissed him for longer. I would’ve kissed him on his lips, but I figured stealing a first kiss might be a little too harsh for the first day we were even close to friends. 

As expected, as soon as my hands fell, Spencer was bristling with confusion and a shy frustration. “What was that for?!” he squeaked, holding his hand up to his red-again cheek.

“Sorry! I know you don’t like germs I just—“

_I just couldn’t help it. You looked so cute and kissable._

If Spencer was actually mad, he sure didn’t show it. Once he was able to breathe again, his lips curled up at the ends in a poorly hidden smile.

“Did you know you spread more germs in a handshake than a kiss?” he asked me in a very confident tone.

My smile wasn’t hidden at all, although it was more of a cheeky grin than what he was displaying. “Are you saying I should kiss you more?” I asked him back, leaning forward with puckered lips to offer him a chance. 

But Spencer just clutched his stationery box tighter, spinning on his heels before he shouted, “I have to go!” He took off running before I could say anything else, but he slowed down just long enough to look back and yell, “Thank you again! Bye!”

— _Twenty Years Later_ —

When I was thirteen, twenty years sounded like a lifetime. Now that I was thirty three, it still sort of felt that way. It felt like a lifetime had passed since I’d seen Spencer Reid, all freckled and pink and kissable as he’d been when we were kids. I thought about him often; I wondered where he might have gone after he’d left Nevada for good. I thought about how good of a thing it was that he’d left. He always was bigger than that place.

I missed him. I missed him each time it rained or when the stoplight turned red. It reminded me of the way his cheeks changed colour whenever he caught me looking at him after that day. I missed him on the walk to check the mail, or whenever I saw an old, well-loved book. I missed him all the time.

Every now and then I’d go through his monogrammed letters that were significantly less empty than when I’d given them to him. I’d try to read his chicken scratch containing words that were way too advanced and wondered what new ones he’d learned since.

I thought about Spencer more than I should for a guy I hadn’t seen in nearly twenty years. Especially one that, despite my heartfelt confession and dozens of letters, had never actually been mine. I thought about him so much that sometimes when I walked the streets of Las Vegas, I swore that I saw him. Part of me told myself that I wouldn’t even recognize him, but in my heart I knew that I could never mistake him for anyone else.

So when I was walking down the street and I heard someone shout his last name, I didn’t believe it at first. The sound caught my attention, but it drifted too far for me to tell where it had come from. I looked at the sea of unfamiliar faces, searching for a glimmer from a memory past.

And just when I was about to give up, I saw him.

Just across the street, he stood there in all of his sweater-vest-wearing glory and I knew that it couldn’t be anyone else.

“Spencer!” I called over the sound of cars and distant horns that became louder as I maneuvered between them. It wasn’t like they’d be going anywhere any time soon, anyway, and they were decidedly in my way. The second he turned his head to see me, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped the same way it had when he’d opened my present twenty years before. 

“Spencer! Is that really you?” I yelled through a laugh, jumping up onto the sidewalk to see him up close.

“... (y/n)?” he answered just above a whisper, his mouth returning to its shocked position that didn’t help at all in making him look less kissable. My heart skipped a beat – or several – at the sound of him saying my name. I’d always wondered if he’d wanted to remember me. To be fair, I still couldn’t be sure.

I fought the urge to make this moment mimic those in the movies. My arms begged me to hug him or grab his hand, but I held back. I thought about how he’d told me before that there were less germs shared in a kiss. I wished I could kiss him.

“Oh my god, it is you,” I said with a quick exhale, trying to regulate my breathing and racing heart. The adrenaline of running through traffic was nothing compared to being that close to him again. And I inspected the way he’d changed. His rounded face had thinned into a jawline that was downright sinful, and even through the business attire underneath his sweater vest I could tell that he’d finally bulked up the scrawny limbs he used to hug me with. But the one thing I couldn’t get past, the one glaring detail that seemed to make him so foreign, was neither of those things.

“You cut your hair.”

Spencer reached up, patting his head as if to check if that were true before he mumbled back, “Y-yeah... I did.”

“What are you doing here?” I gushed, my hands running through my own hair while wishing it could be his, wishing that I could touch him and hug him and hear everything that he had to say. “I haven’t seen you since that Christmas break you came to visit, gosh... 16 years ago?”

“Yeah, it’s been 16 years,” he replied with a quiet, nervous laugh. I might have been embarrassed about my excitement if it weren’t for his lips starting to curl at the ends.

But then, for the first time in this entire encounter, I recalled the fact that someone else had called his name. Someone else, who also happened to be standing directly next to us… and had been the entire time.

With enough heat in my cheeks to start a fire in the desert heat, I laughed dryly, shifting my attention back and forth between them as I started cautiously, “How have you been? Is this your...”

“Oh! This is Derek Morgan. We work together. I’m a uh— I’m an FBI Agent. I’m here on a case.” He answered me so quickly and with such gusto that I was forced to believe that Derek Morgan was either definitely _not_ his boyfriend, or that he definitely was. To make my entirely unbiased and not at all hopeful mind choose, I turned to the man in question, who was giggling in a very curious manner.

“Oh, okay. Sorry. Although I’m a little relieved to hear he’s not your boyfriend.” I said through the side of my mouth, “Not sure I could compete with him.” And when I said I was not sure, I meant that I definitely couldn’t. The man looked like he’d been sculpted in the image of Adonis himself. I might have been interested in him myself if I hadn’t been so distracted.

Turning back to Spencer, I was met with a familiar set of cherry red cheeks that had been sorely missed. Before I could even comment on it, his coworker beat me to the punch. “Nonsense. Judging by the color of the kid’s face, I think you’ve already got me beat.”

“Shut up,” Spencer warned in a low tone.

Unfortunately for him, it was just too much fun to mess with him like this. “Yeah, it’s nice knowing that even almost two decades later you still turn beet red when you talk to me,” I said, holding a hand to my chest like the proud little peacock I was.

“I’m not that red!” His voice jumped an octave, and while I was too busy laughing, Derek took the shot for me.

“I dunno, kid, looks pretty damn red to me.”

“Derek, don’t you have somewhere to be?” Spencer squeaked, pivoting back and forth like an excuse would drop from the sky and whisk his friend away.

“Not anymore,” Derek answered with high eyebrows and a small hint of his tongue peeking out from behind his teeth.

Without even thinking about the implications, I interrupted their playful bickering with a joke we’d made a million times before. Gesturing to Derek with my thumb, I bit my lip before I whispered, “Is he the one pulling your pigtails now?”

“ _No,_ ” Spencer’s answer was firm. Firmer than it should have been for a lighthearted joke, and the thought made butterflies come to life in my stomach.

He said that Derek wasn’t pulling his pigtails, and I couldn’t help but feel that the reason why was because there was only one person he’d ever allowed to do that. A stupid and somewhat self-serving thought, maybe, but one I would chase down just like I’d chased after him, twenty years ago, as well as just a few minutes prior.

“Yeah. I guess you did cut your hair, so it would be harder now.” I reached up as I spoke, my hands finally making contact with the same soft, messy mousy brown locks I’d dreamed of for too long.

“I bet you could still put it in pigtails if you tried,” Spencer mumbled, tilting his head down but looking up at me with a hopefulness and bashfulness that made me want to scream.

_He’s. Too. Fucking. Cute._

“Should I?” I asked, running my hands through his hair to part it just for a second before he flinched away from me, as nervous and fidgety as ever.

“W-wait! Not like th-that!” he stuttered, “I-I don’t mean—“

“Relax, pretty boy. I’m only joking,” I hummed, letting my hands fall and catch his just for a second before he pulled away completely. He couldn’t look me in the eyes then, but he chewed on his bottom lip as his mind went to places that I’d probably never be able to understand completely.

“I have to go, actually. We both have to go. You know... serial killers to catch,” he urged, much to his coworker’s displeasure. Luckily, Derek seemed to have a different plan. A plan that I liked much better and included torturing Spencer a little bit longer.

“We’ve got time.”

Spencer turned to him with a scandalized look, flattening his lips into a line and muttering a frustrated, “Seriously?”

“Okay, here’s the plan!” I shouted. Both men turned to me as I held my hands in surrender, trying to settle an argument before it started. “I’ll stop torturing you in front of your friend... if you call me later.”

“Deal,” he agreed so quickly I almost thought it’d been his plan all along.

“Should we shake on it?” I asked, presenting my hand to him.

Spencer eyed it warily, inspecting the offer like I was hiding a prank buzzer in it or something. He should’ve known by then that pranks were more his speed. Eventually, he agreed with a skeptical, “Uh... Sure?”

He should’ve known. Or at least, he should’ve remembered. But judging by the way his muscles tensed when I took hold of his hand and pulled him forward, the infallible Spencer Reid had forgotten the very foundation of our friendship.

My lips hit his cheek, which was more stubbly than before, but just as warm. I held it for longer this time, no longer afraid that he would hate me for it. His other cheek still fit so perfectly in my hand, and I still wondered what it might be like to kiss him on that beautiful, brilliant mouth of his.

I’d save it for another day.

As we separated this time, Spencer wasn’t in quite the hurry to leave. He was too busy looking at me with a mixture of shock and pure nostalgia. I wondered which memories he recalled first. I envied the fact that they probably didn’t mesh into one big jumble for him like they did for me.

“Put your number in my phone,” I instructed, passing it to him with the contacts tab already open.

Spencer was quiet as he typed, but occasionally he would look back up at me and his blush would start all over again. “I would have called you either way, you know,” he mumbled so his friend couldn’t hear it. 

“Yeah, I know,” I responded with a smile. He looked confused for a moment, but once I got my phone back, I nodded. “I just wanted an excuse to kiss you.”

Spencer’s face got so dark that I thought it might stay that way. I hoped that it meant he felt wanted, because he still was. I hoped that I’d see it again, soon and often. But for the time being, Spencer Reid had bigger things to be, and that was alright with me. I just hoped from then on, I’d get to be some small part of them.

“Talk to you soon, pretty boy.”


End file.
